


Full Disclosure

by ThirdGenerationRockette



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: 1.05, F/M, s1 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 00:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdGenerationRockette/pseuds/ThirdGenerationRockette
Summary: As he heads for Charlie's office, he wonders what the story is, if it's related to the stabbing, if Nina has somehow inflated it beyond the minor thing Mackenzie told him it was. The more salacious the better, as far as TMI is concerned.





	Full Disclosure

He's furious, completely fucking furious. Without even knowing the details of the story Nina plans on running, he knows it's bullshit, because he knows Mackenzie, and even if she and her crew had been in a near lethal situation (and reporting from a war zone for two years means it's hardly unlikely) he knows too that she would have done everything right. As he heads for Charlie's office, he wonders what the story is, if it's related to the stabbing, if Nina has somehow inflated it beyond the minor thing Mackenzie told him it was. The more salacious the better, as far as TMI is concerned.

"Nina fucking Howard has a story she's planning on running." He wastes no time, barging right into Charlie's office as soon as Millie nods at him.

"Jesus, what the fuck does she think she has on us now?" Charlie leans back in his chair, frowning up at him.

"It's not on us, well, not really." He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. "It's about Mac."

"Ah." Standing up, Charlie steps out from behind his desk and crosses the room, pouring a drink, pushing the second glass aside when Will shakes his head at the offer. "Is this more Wade Campbell crap, because that's just-"

"It's not," he says quickly. "I don't know the details but it seems she thinks she has something on Mackenzie's time in the Middle East, some shit about Mac almost getting her crew killed. I mean, for fuck's sake, Mac is a lot of things, and she can be a risk taker, but she's not reckless with other people's safety, she's not..."

He stops and thinks about Charlie's question, about the Wade situation, about how blatantly clear it was that Mac had no idea he was using her position for his own self-promotion, and how her first instinct is always to believe the best in people. He loves that about her, he always has, but he hates that it so often seems to end in her getting hurt.

"It's about the stabbing?" Charlie's frown deepens, his forehead creased as he turns back to Will.

"I don't know, I'm going to meet with Nina after the show tonight and make damn sure she doesn't run it, whatever it is." He's curious suddenly about whether Charlie knows more than he's saying. "I guess it could be about the stabbing. You know TMI, they can make a fucking drama out of anything, even something minor that happened two years ago-"

"It was hardly...it was far from _minor_ , Will." Charlie raises his eyebrows, and there seems to be a sudden realisation dawning in his eyes, of what he isn't sure. "What did Mackenzie tell you about it?"

"Not much...I mean, we haven't, you know, I..." He stops, feeling suddenly like an idiot, a knot of fear forming deep in the pit of his stomach. "She said they were filming, what started off as a manageable protest turned into a riot, got pretty violent and out of control real fast and she took a slight nick from a knife. The crew got her out of it and to the hospital...that was pretty much it."

"Yeah, you might want to make the assumption she was sugar coating things just a little for you." As Charlie shrugs, he has the sudden urge to run downstairs, find Mackenzie and demand to know everything. "It was...pretty serious, Will, and if that's what the story is about, she's not going to want it dragged up again."

"Fucking gossip rag!" He's furious again, with Nina, irrationally with Mackenzie for her apparent need to play things down, and with himself for not realising that was exactly what she was doing. "She's already feeling shitty about the whole Wade thing, and this isn't exactly going to make her feel any better."

"Has she talked to Wade about that?" Charlie asks, worry written across his face. "Made it clear, I mean, that he can't be on the show again, not a fucking chance, like-"

"No idea," he answers quickly, abruptly, not missing the look in Charlie's eyes. "What? It's not like we sit and talk about how things are going with her and Wade, you know? But yeah, she said it wouldn't happen again so I'm sure she's handled it. She needs to deal with that, but this one? This one's on me."

"How the hell do you figure that?" Charlie gives him an inscrutable look.

"I'm so done with TMI and their tactics. We didn't get a heads up on the last story, or I'd have gone in there too," he says, fresh fury building all over again. "This time someone tipped off Gary and he came to me with it. I'm going to make sure this fresh pile of Nina Howard's crap doesn't see the light of day."

"You really think you have a chance of stopping her if she thinks this is a Grade A TMI scoop?" Charlie's confused expression disappears and he frowns again.

"Whatever she's writing, it's bullshit, you know that, it's just..." He pauses, wondering if he shouldn't have just gone right over to see Nina as soon as Gary mentioned the story, a glance at the clock telling him it's too late to worry about that now. "It's-"

"Because it's Mackenzie." Charlie cuts in, adding nothing further as he looks at him.

"I'm sick of them writing shit about us, and this time I'm going to do something about it," he says, pacing in front of Charlie's desk.

"Because it's Mackenzie." Charlie repeats himself.

"Yeah, alright!" he says, snapping slightly before taking a breath. "Because it's Mackenzie." "Fine." Charlie sits back down and nods at him. "Do whatever you have to do."

*

He considered telling her before the show, but there was so much going on, and he really didn't want to tell her unless he had to, so he figured it could wait until after he had met with Nina, by which time he had really hoped there would be nothing to tell. Now she's in his arms, her head on his chest, and he can feel her hands on his back. The line snakes slowly into his office, as one by one the staff drops its contribution onto his desk, more than one member of the team giving them a glance as they pass by, no doubt wondering if they've fallen into some alternate universe where their bosses hugging, rather than fighting, is the norm. He's the first to pull away and he doesn't miss the small breath of disappointment she lets out, or the way she drops her eyes to avoid his gaze. He hears her surprise too when he slides his arm around her shoulder and pulls her against him, carefully fixing his attention on the staff, smiling when he feels her relax again as she leans into him. When the last person comes out of his office and smiles shyly at them, he feels her pull back and he reluctantly lets her go, watching as she lets out a long breath and heads to her office.

He needs to talk to her before she leaves, having her wake up to the story without prior warning isn't an option he's prepared to consider. The huge paper heart on his door reminds him of what day it is, meaning she probably has plans that she's already pushed back because she wanted to do what she just did for him, and that thought ignites his anger for Nina all over again, for targeting Mac, whose decency outstrips most people's by a mile. Turning on his heel, he walks to her office and lingers in the doorway, taking the few seconds before she notices him to watch her. She's not showing any signs of being in a hurry to leave, her eyes are fixed on her screen, her glasses on, a faint trace of a frown on her face.

"Hey," he says quietly, stepping inside the room. "Do you have a minute?"

"Sure, yeah." She slides her glasses off and sets them down on the desk, watching him as he closes the door and moves towards her desk.

"Alright, so..." Hesitating for a second, he sits down in the chair opposite her, attempting a casual smile, knowing she won't buy it for a second. "I was tipped off that TMI has something they're planning to run, and-"

"God, can't they just drop it?" She sighs and pushes her hair behind her ear, frowning at him. "I know I was an idiot, I should've seen that Wade was pushing himself forward to appear on the show way more often than he should, and I can't believe I didn't think about how that would look...anyway, it's over, completely over, it won't happen again, I-"

"It's not about Wade," he says, cutting her off, and only then realising what she just said. "Wait, it's over? You and Wade, it's over?"

"He said it was never going to work between us, because...well, he was angry I hadn't told him we were ever together, you and me, I mean, and then he admitted he was using me, at which point I told him to lose the damn election and go to hell. So yeah, it's over," she says with a defeated shrug.

"Asshole." The word is out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he sees her eyebrows raise. "You didn't deserve that."

"That's what Jim said." She gives a tired huff, a bitter laugh. "And I'll tell you exactly what I told him, I deserved what I got."

"Jesus, Mac." He runs a hand through his hair, partly to stop himself from reaching across the desk and touching her. "You didn't-"

"Doesn't matter now," she says firmly, stopping him. "So if the story isn't about Wade, what the hell _is_ it about?"

"Nina Howard apparently has a source who came to her with a story about..." He pauses, watches as she bites her lip, and forces himself to carry on. "It's about what happened while you were overseas, she says she has a story on how you led your crew into a situation you knew was about to turn violent, and that you almost got everyone killed. I doubt she has a source, I'm pretty fucking sure she's making this shit up as she goes along, as she always does, she-"

"It's not true, I swear, it's not," she says, her hands clasped so tightly together her fingers are white. "We did end up in the middle of something, obviously, but I would never, ever have dragged anyone into a situation that I knew was potentially violent, not without telling them, or giving them chance to opt out. It did turn shitty, really shitty, and really fast, but the only person who almost got killed was me."

She falls silent, biting her lip again as if she thinks she's said too much, refusing to meet his eyes. Giving in to his urge this time, he reaches across the desk and covers her knotted hands with his, running his thumb slowly across her wrist, stopping only when she eventually looks up at him, surprise evident in her eyes.

"I know," he says, because he knows without hearing the full story that even in full self-destruct mode she would never willingly risk anyone else, not deliberately. "It's bullshit, Mac, I know that."

"What..." She stops, clears her throat and glances down at his hand on hers. "What do you mean, you know?"

"I know you'd never have deliberately taken a crew into a situation without briefing them fully, I know you'd take the risk completely on yourself before you'd put anyone else in danger, because..." He squeezes her hand again before pulling his slowly back. "Because you're you."

"And I'm annoyingly ethical?" She lets out a shaky breath and looks over at him.

"Something like that, yeah." He nods and watches as she composes herself, straightening her shoulders and unclasping her hands. "I tried. To have her scrap the story, I-"

"Oh my God, Billy, you _did_ try to pay her off?" She sighs and he shrugs, unable to deny it, again caught off guard by her use of the name only she has ever used for him, the name that would sound wrong in anyone else's voice.

"I would have done whatever I had to, but she wouldn't budge," he says, frustrated all over again at Nina's earlier refusal to even consider his plea. "It's running tomorrow."

"Well...this day just keeps getting better and better," she says, her gaze dropping to her desk, a hand reaching out and toying absently with one arm of her glasses. "I'm sorry, it seems my propensity for making terrible decisions really does just keep coming back to bite us. I don't think I have any choice now, do I? I think the only thing that makes sense at this point is for me to quietly resign while you still have a chance of coming out of this unscathed. We can come up with some sort of statement, something along the lines of how the actions of the former Executive Producer have no bearing on the future of the show or the integrity of the remaining staff, or-"

"You're _not_ resigning." He keeps his voice level, his eyes on her as she thinks aloud. "Nobody's resigning."

"Why do they care so much about me anyway? You're the one on screen, you're the face of the show, why is Nina so determined to hang me out to dry?" She takes a breath but she isn't finished, so he lets her continue. "They're clearly more than happy to run story after story without knowing any of the facts. God forbid they print anything truthful. I mean, yes, I probably deserved a six inch knife to the gut, but nobody else did. The only person who deserved to be bleeding out on a dirty street was me, and I may be many things but I'm not reckless with other people's safety, I would never have taken a crew into that protest if I'd known how it was going to go. If Nina fucking Howard had bothered to fact check her story, that's what I'd have told her."

"Why did you lie to me about the stabbing?" he asks, his mind flicking back to Charlie's words.

"I didn't lie," she says quietly, wrapping her arms protectively around herself and avoiding his eyes. "I told you what happened. We got caught in a protest that turned bad and somewhere in the chaos I ended up with a knife to the abdomen. The crew pulled me out, the hospital stitched me up, and-"

"Mackenzie." His tone seems to stop her and she shrugs. "I talked to Charlie."

"How do you know I wasn't over selling things to Charlie? I needed a job, after all." She pauses and they share a beat of heavy silence before she seems to realise it's time to share something of the truth with him. "I doubt you noticed, but I wasn't exactly in a good place when I first got here. I was exhausted, I hadn't been home for very long, I was barely sleeping, and when I was managing a few hours here and there I was having the worst nightmares. My therapist told me it would help to be honest, to talk about how bad things were to the people I was confident cared about me, to share the load just a little. So I talked to my sisters, a little bit to my mum, and then when I arrived here I talked to Charlie, but I didn't think..."

"You didn't think I'd care?" He has no right to be surprised, he knows that, when she showed up at ACN he did everything he could to make it seem he couldn't care less if she lived or died.

"That's not a criticism. It wasn't your job to care, it wasn't your problem," she says, simply. "I stopped being your problem long before that point."

"Tell me what happened?" he asks, his tone gentle, well aware he has no entitlement to any detail she doesn't want to offer.

"Full disclosure?" she asks, frowning but slowly relaxing her posture and moving her hands back onto the desk.

"Full disclosure." He nods, ready to hear whatever she's ready to tell him, tamping down the anger he feels at himself for never questioning her original story, for taking the easy option and choosing to let himself believe she was okay.

"It was a protest, and we stayed on the edges at first, just like any decent crew would, feeling out the mood, getting as close as we could, and we were close enough, we were getting solid footage, and then almost in a heartbeat it just... _changed_ , and we were..." She pauses, breaking eye contact and glancing down at her hands as she goes on. "We went from being on the periphery, observing, to being right in the thick of it, in what felt like seconds, and I remember being jostled, and having to push back, but there were just so many people and it was hot and noisy, and...then I heard Jim's voice and I could tell he was panicking but I didn't know why, I didn't get what was happening, and then I just-"

"Mac..." He can see the shake in her hands and he curses himself for pushing her on this, but his sentence trails off when she looks back up at him, her eyes bright but filled with determination. "You don't have to..."

"I didn't even realise I'd been stabbed until I saw the look on Jim's face, and then I felt it, and looked down and saw the blood, and I...well, it's all a bit of a blur after that," she says, giving him a reassuring half smile that makes him wonder what his face is giving away. "I ended up in Germany, at the military hospital in Landstuhl, I don't even remember being transported there, I guess I was pretty doped up. Turned out it was a little bit worse than the tiny nick I told you about..."

"How bad?" He's almost afraid to ask but he figures if she can handle telling him then he can sure as hell handle hearing it.

"God, where to begin..." She takes a breath and then starts to talk, the words tumbling out almost frantically. "Okay, well, my heart stopped twice on the table, so they couldn't get me to Germany until they'd stabilised me to some extent, I lost three pints of blood, and whoever stitched me up the first time won't be winning any needlework prizes anytime soon, but-"

"Three pints?" He's stunned, and he wants nothing more than to move around the desk and pull her into his arms again, but he's rooted to his seat. "That's a class three haemorrhage, you were...fuck, I had no idea."

"Yeah, it wasn't exactly my finest hour, but it was a long time ago, and I'm fine now," she says, giving him a soft, relieved smile. "I'm fine, really, plus I have a nice big scar to remind me never to launch myself into a Shiite protest again without thinking, so it's not all bad."

"I wish you'd told me," he says, refusing to take his eyes off hers.

"I just did." She breaks eye contact and reaches for her mouse, closing down whatever she was working on and shutting off the monitor.

He watches as she folds her glasses into their case and stands up, sliding the case along with her phone into her bag. She's exhausted, he can read it in the way she blinks a little more slowly than usual, in the way she absently rubs the back of her neck, and he questions whether he should have told her about the story at all, no doubt having ruined her chances of any sleep tonight. He stands and takes her coat from where it hangs in the corner of the room, ignoring the wary look she gives him before she slides her arms gratefully into the sleeves. He takes the opportunity to rest his hands on her shoulders for just a second, needing the contact, narrowly resisting pulling her to him and breathing her in, just like he did when she was in his arms earlier.

"I'm serious, you know," she says, turning to him as they get halfway to the door. "I can resign, make things easier for everyone, I could-"

"It's starting to sound like you want to resign," he says, watching as she sighs and closes her eyes, in exasperation, he thinks.

"I'm just..." Opening her eyes, she fixes them on him, steely and bright in the dim light. "So we're clear, I don't want to resign."

"Good, because if you offered your resignation I'd tell you to go fuck yourself." He gives a half smile, pleased somehow when she returns it.

"Ah, there it is, the legendary McAvoy charm that pulls in the viewers night after night." She nods, her smile still there. "Give me a ride home and I'll stop threatening to resign. How does that sound?"

"Like you know I have a car waiting and that I'd hardly have gotten into it and left you standing on the street trying to find a cab," he says, shaking his head. "Whatever. Let's go."

*

Even the thought of trying to sleep seems pointless, so he doesn't bother. Instead he lies in the dark, replaying every word of what she told him earlier, realising that fuck, it's no wonder Nina is chomping at the bit to run this damn story in all its gory detail. He closes his eyes but all that does is conjure up images of Mackenzie bleeding as he recalls her words... _my heart stopped twice on the table_...the reality of it sends a sudden wave of nausea running through him and he slowly sits up and moves to the edge of the bed. He takes a long, slow breath, and another, until the nausea passes and he's left with just the horror of it all lodged deep in the pit of his stomach. As he thinks about whether he should just give up on sleep and go watch some TV while he waits for the story to surface, his phone beeps, lighting up the dark room.

_'Are you awake, by any chance? M.'_

There's something about the way she always signs it with her initial, as if her number isn't in his phone, and as if anyone else would be messaging at two in the morning. Without thinking further, he dials her number and pushes himself back against his pillows, her voice a welcome break into the silence of his room.

"Did I wake you?" she asks, and he can picture her so clearly, frowning as she bites her lip, momentarily regretting her message.

"No, I was awake," he answers, unsurprised at her being wide awake too. They've had more than their fair share of middle of the night conversations since she's been back, he knows her sleeping patterns are about as normal as his. "You alright?"

"I'm sorry," she says, and he hears her follow the apology with a sigh.

"It's not your fault," he says, his voice firm enough, he hopes, to get through to her. "It's bullshit, and if they weren't running this story they'd find another one, about me, or Sloan, or whoever, it's not-"

"I didn't mean I was sorry for the story." She pauses and he can almost hear her thinking, so he waits and she goes on. "I mean, I _am_ sorry for that, obviously, but I'm sorry for...dumping everything on you like I did earlier, it's just...it's been a tough week, and you asked, and I didn't quite have the energy to gloss over it this time, so I-"

"I hate that you ever thought you had to gloss over it." He doesn't stop, doesn't want to give her chance to cut in, so he keeps talking. "I know why you did, I know I've been a complete ass, and I'm not proud of that, I'm not fucking proud of it at all, but you just...you showed up at ACN totally out of left field ten months ago and it blew my mind, I didn't know..."

"I didn't want to always be wondering if you only eased up on me because you felt sorry for me, I wanted to prove myself, I wanted to remind you of what a fucking good EP I am, and how good we were..." She falters and he closes his eyes, forcing himself to let her finish. "Do you know what Charlie said to me when he offered me the job?"

"Other than 'Will's running through producers like most people run through toilet paper, please come and fucking work for me'?" He's trying to lighten the conversation, but he knows it's pointless. It's two in the morning, she's sharing things she's never shared before, he needs to shut up and let her talk.

"He said I was a better EP when you were my anchor..." She pauses, sighs again, and goes on. "And you were a better anchor with me as your EP."

"And he was right." He can't deny it, doesn't see why he should, it's plain for anyone to see that Charlie was right, but her silence suggests she never thought she'd hear him admit it. God, he really has been a fucking asshole.

"Yeah, he usually is," she says, and he hears a trace of a smile in her voice.

"Look..." It's on the tip of his tongue to ask if she wants him to come over, but it's a ridiculous urge so he holds it back. "You know what, it might not be so bad, the story, and nobody who knows you will believe it for a second, so it really doesn't-"

"It's not about who believes it, it's about how it looks, how it makes ACN look, you know that." She falls silent for just a beat before she continues. "If Mrs Lansing decides to fire me, neither you nor Charlie stand a chance of talking her out of it."

"Can we not do this?" He sighs, exasperated, but not with her, not really. "No one is getting fired, and if Leona wants to fight me on this, I'm ready for her."

"No offence, Billy, but my money is on Leona," she says, her voice softening again.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence." He smiles, and wonders if she has even a vague idea that he's serious, that he would fight to the death for her. Then he wonders if he realised that himself until just now. "Try to get some sleep."

"Yeah," she says quietly, with a hint of something that makes it clear there's no chance of that. "You too. See you in the morning."

The next few hours are as he expected, he lies in bed, wide awake, his mind replaying everything over and over, and he knows if he has basically given up on the possibility of sleep then she more than likely never entertained the thought at all. Again, his anger rears its head, this time with Leona and the fact that the simple reason she doesn't shut down TMI is because it pulls people in, makes money, even though it goes against everything he, Charlie and Mackenzie have been doing for the past several months. Their show has a direction now, it has integrity, and he knows most of that is down to Mac, so Nina Howard (who wouldn't know integrity if it bit her on the ass) daring to suggest she's anything other than ethical is fucking infuriating.

At five, the story shows up, with all the misleading headline fanfare that usually goes hand in hand with TMI's particular style of bullshit. He reads it, rereads it, gets out of bed, paces the room, sits down and reads it once more. It's awful, it's really fucking awful. It paints Mackenzie as a liability, as someone who has no thought for anyone else, no consideration for the careers of others, the lives of others. At no point is there any mention of how fast the situation turned bad, or of Mackenzie's injuries, and there's certainly nothing about how one of her crew was so impressed with her ethics overseas that he followed her to News Night. Sighing, he stands up, moving slowly with the heavy feeling of tiredness weighing him down as he heads to the bathroom. A long, hot shower goes some way to creating the illusion of wakefulness, but it fails to clear his anger, his frustration, and as he dresses he glances at the clock, wondering how early is too early to show up at Mackenzie's door.

One coffee drunk as slowly as humanly possible, followed by a detour for bagels as he heads uptown, and he finds himself in front of her building just short of 6.45. He knows she'll be awake, he's not worried about that, but he is worried that her barriers will have gone back up, her revelations of the night before triggered by exhaustion and more than a tinge of panic about the story. Still, standing outside her door with a bag of bagels will get him nowhere so he takes a breath and pushes the buzzer for her apartment.

"Hello?" She answers quickly and the note of confusion in her voice makes him wish he'd sent a message before making his way over.

"It's me," he says, pausing, leaning closer to the intercom, remembering how early it still is and not wanting to wake half of her street. "Will. It's Will."

"Are you aware it's not even seven yet?" she asks, her confusion replaced by something that sounds like amusement.

"I am." He thinks he hears a faint sigh but he's not sure. "Did I wake you?"

"No, of course not," she says, as though the concept of sleep is a completely alien one.

"Then let me up, Mac, for fuck's sake." He lowers his voice, reaching for the door as it unlocks with a faint buzz.

She opens her apartment door as he reaches the top step, and he follows her inside, expecting an interrogation about what he's doing there, surprised when none is forthcoming. Instead she walks down the hallway and he follows, glancing briefly into her living room as he passes, spotting a lamp turned on, her laptop on the coffee table, a stack of papers beside it. It's the first time he's been to her apartment, and even though he's pretty sure he knows her style, could pretty much guess how she would have the place looking, he's curious to see if he's right. In the kitchen she stops and turns to him and he can see how tired she is, and he makes the assumption she's had as little sleep as he has, if she's managed any at all.

"I brought bagels," he says, awkwardly holding out the bag, giving her a relieved smile when she takes it and sets it on the counter.

"I'll put some coffee on," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear and moving to the fridge.

"You saw it." He doesn't insult her by phrasing it as a question, he knows damn well that if he's read it countless times this morning then so has she.

"Yeah." She doesn't look at him, instead busying herself with starting the coffee and reaching for two mugs. "What a lovely five a.m. Google alert that was."

"You have Google alerts set up for your own name?" He moves to lean against the counter, watching as she opens a cupboard and takes out two plates, setting them down and opening the bag of bagels.

"I'm not usually the one raising hell in the tabloids." She does look at him now, and there's a trace of a smirk on her face. "I have Google alerts set up for _your_ name."

"Right," he says, realising two things; that he probably should have guessed that, and that his tabloid appearances over the last few months must have been hell for her. Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, he feels like an ass. "It's not so bad. The story."

"It's fucking _terrible_ , and you know it," she says, raising her eyebrows, obviously totally onto his attempt to make her feel better. "People are going to read it and wonder what the fuck Will McAvoy was thinking hiring a selfish, reckless idiot with a death wish, and then when Leona does fire me, I'm doing to be right back where I was a year ago, with nobody willing to hire me. I'm going to end up producing infomercials at three in the morning, I'm going to-"

"Mac..." He tries gently at first but then he sees the look in her eyes and before he can stop himself his hands are on her shoulders, his thumb sliding softly down the side of her neck, and she stops, stunned into silence, he thinks. "Nobody who has ever met you, even for a fucking second, is going to believe that shit, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, it's not-"

"It matters what the viewers think, you know that." She finds her voice again and he considers pulling his hands back but he can't seem to bring himself to break the contact, for his sake as much as hers. "People vote with their feet, and if they walk away from News Night, then that's that. Ratings mean money, and just because _we_ care about doing a good job, I'm not sure how that would fly up on the hundredth floor, or wherever the hell they sit around counting the money-"

Her phone rings, startling both of them, and he doesn't think he imagines her reluctance at having to step back out of his reach to answer it. His hands feel instantly adrift, which he knows is fucking insane, but he needs something to occupy them and since he can't really light a cigarette in her kitchen he settles for slicing the bagels and sliding them into the toaster, curious about who might be calling her this early.

"Save it, it's about as bad as it could be." She says, sighing, her tone weary as she turns and pours a coffee, pushing the mug towards him, answering his silent question. "It's Jim."

"Ah." He nods and takes a step to her fridge for the milk, glad he brought the bagels when he sees that milk is literally all she seems to have.

"No, sorry, I was just telling Will it was you on the phone," she says, and he can almost picture Jim scratching his head at that response. "Of course I'm not at work, it's seven o'clock, Jim...okay, you don't have to- alright, I know. See you later."

She puts the phone down on the counter and takes the milk out of his hand, adding just a splash to her own coffee and blowing gently over the top of the mug before taking a sip.

"Why is it that I'm telling you the story isn't so bad, and from what I got from that phone call clearly Jim is telling you the same thing, but you can't seem to believe it?" he asks, watching as she shrugs and shifts her gaze to the toaster where the bagels conveniently seem to be done, giving her an excuse to move past him and avoid his question. "Is it pure pig-headed stubbornness, or are you genuinely convinced people will believe it, that by the time they replace it with some celebrity shit or other tomorrow Leona will have used it as the basis to fire you, or-"

"For fuck's sake, Will, just drop it, would you!" She slams his bagel on a plate, does the same with her own and pulls the fridge door open, the sink in her shoulders giving more away than her petulant tone. "Shit, I don't have anything to go on the bagels, I didn't-"

"There's cream cheese in the bag," he says, keeping his voice level because he doesn't want to fight with her, they've done more than enough fighting since she arrived ten months ago. "I figured even if your fridge was loaded with the stuff it'd be the fat free kind, and I'd rather eat a dry bagel than contaminate my insides with that shit, frankly."

"I would usually dispute that but I guess on this occasion your complete disregard for your health is proving useful, so I'll let it go," she says, reaching for the bag, her frown softening slightly as she picks up her plate and her coffee and heads for the kitchen table.

He watches as she spreads the thinnest covering possible onto her bagel and takes a bite worthy of a small child. He gets it, he's not hungry either, but running on no sleep _and_ no food isn't going to help either of them get through the day, so he makes a show of attacking his own bagel with much more gusto than he feels. She gives him a look but she doesn't comment, merely turning her attention to her coffee. He can almost hear her thinking, the wheels turning, the story playing over and over inside her head, just as it is in his own, and just as he wonders if he's going to be dealing with a Mackenzie who stews in angry silence all day, she speaks up.

"When do you think it might end? This constant punishment?" She doesn't pause so he guesses she's not done, that her questions are rhetorical. "I did an awful thing, I broke your heart, I broke my own, and then I ran away to the worst place possible, threw myself into the absolute worst situation I could. I got stabbed, I nearly died, I failed my psych screenings, CNN dropped me like a hot potato, and then I-"

"Mac..." He tries but it's no use, she clearly has no intention of stopping until she's got everything out of her system so he sits back and lets her go on.

"And then Charlie showed up, and I wanted so, so badly to be back in a newsroom that I took the job at News Night, even though I knew you'd be furious, because you still hated me, but I came back anyway and we started making a good show, a really good show, and I thought maybe things would be okay, maybe we'd be...I don't know." She pauses, takes a breath and carries on. "But then you seemed determined to keep making it as hard for me as possible, to keep proving that you're never going to forgive me, and so I thought okay, a decent enough guy asks me out I'll see how that goes, but of course he's only with me for his own gains, so boom, the punishment goes on. I end that fucking sham and oh, whose turn is it now? TMI, apparently. The hits just keep coming, and I'm tired of it, I'm just...I'm tired, Will."

There it is, pouring out of her, months, probably _years_ of pent up anger, sadness, guilt, and now here they are, sitting at her kitchen table, both pretending they have an appetite, neither admitting that the elephant in the room is what they had before, what she seems to think is irreparable and what he's suddenly realising he has the power to fix. For years he's been angry too, bitter, furious with her, with himself, and she's right, from the day she showed up at ACN, bright eyed and more fragile than he'd ever seen her (although frankly, Mackenzie's fragile is most people's strong) he shuttered up, determined to protect himself and maintain his staunch refusal to forgive her. It's like a wave washing over him, for a second he can't catch his breath, can't arrange his jumbled thoughts, but he knows this is the moment, this is when he needs to tell her she's more than earned his forgiveness and that, if she can, it's her turn to forgive _him_ for everything he's put her through since she came back.

"Sorry, I just...shit, it's fucking exhausting, you know?" She sighs and he nods, the disappointment at his lack of response clear in her eyes. "Anyway, I-"

"Could you stop talking for one fucking second?" Her eyes widen and he fears a fresh tirade, so he pushes on, doesn't give her the chance to start again. "The show is better now than it's ever been, and that's because of you, because you're stubborn and you always want to do what's right, and you wear me down until I want to do it too. And before you leap in, if it wasn't clear, I'm saying that's a good thing."

"It wasn't _entirely_ clear, no," she says, pushing her plate aside and turning slightly in her seat, her hands on the table, fingers nervously clasped. "But go on."

"I know you think this all your fault, the fact that TMI are dragging us through the mud lately, but it's my fault," he says, pausing as he realises he's not making any sense. "It's my fault that you think it's your fault, it's-"

"Am I meant to have even the slightest clue what you're talking about?" She frowns, takes a gulp of coffee, frowns again. "Because I don't. I think you're trying to make me feel better, but I'm really not sure."

"I am, I definitely am, but I'm not just _trying_ to make you feel better because...I mean, holy shit, I've never wished I'd slept better last night than I do at this very moment. Alright, okay..." He takes a chance, reaches over and covers her hand with his, reassured when she doesn't pull away, aware though that she's as tired as he is and her reflexes are probably slower than usual. Still, he goes on. "I know the reason you're blaming yourself so hard for this story, and the one about Wade, is because I've made it more than clear since you came back that I hold you completely responsible for what happened between us, and-"

"And you're right, it _was_ my fault, _is_ my fault, and I'm sorry, you know I am, but I know it's not enough, I know it's too late, but it's hard, it's just...we work so closely together every day and you know, most days I can focus on the work we're doing and it's fine, but there are days when I look at you and all I can see..." She takes a deep breath and he rubs his thumb gently across her hand, encouraging her to go on. "All I can see is the life I could have had if I hadn't been so stupid."

"You don't think I see that too, when I look at _you_?" He understands that feeling because he feels the same thing, and he has ever since she walked back in.

"Yeah," she says quietly, her tone one of sad resignation. "But it's worse for you because you didn't do anything wrong, I ruined it all, we were happy, and...God, it's no wonder you hate me."

"Mackenzie, I don't hate you." He squeezes her hands, not missing the look of complete hopelessness in her eyes, determined instantly to replace it with something he's missed for so long. "I've been punishing you for so long, too long, and you've shown up every day regardless and done such a fucking good job. It's me who needs to apologise, it's me who needs to beg for _your_ forgiveness."

"I don't get...what exactly are you saying?" she asks, letting out a confused laugh as she shakes her head. "It's pretty early in the morning and neither of us has had any sleep. For all I know, this could all be some slightly bizarre dream."

"I'm going to blame the lack of sleep for me not being as clear as I want to be," he says, smiling at her, pleased to see the worry in her eyes fading a little. "Okay, what _am_ I saying...I'm saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry TMI has decided to make you its latest target, I'm sorry for what happened in while you were embedded, I'm sorry I didn't reply to your emails, and fuck, I'm sorry I've been such an ass."

"Well, that was quite the apology," she says, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Does you apologising for being an arse equal a promise to be less of one from now on?"

"It equals a promise to try." He lifts a hand from hers and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, not missing the hint of colour flushing her cheeks. "You know I've never stopped loving you, right?"

There it is, one simple sentence, out of his mouth like the easiest thing in the world, relief at finally saying it out loud, and to her rather than to his therapist, flooding through him. Her eyes are almost comically wide and she seems unable to respond until his thumb stroking across her face seems to flip a switch and a tentative smile starts to move onto her lips.

"You've...what? I...no, Will, unsurprisingly, I didn't know that," she says, pulling his hand from her face and squeezing his fingers harder than she looks capable of, whether in anger or something else he isn't quite sure. "I don't think you realise how completely fucking confusing you are...for the last ten months I've made it so clear I still love you, and all this time you-"

"I know. I _know_. What can I say? I'm an idiot, I guess we kind of covered that already." He's amazing himself with how calm he feels, despite his heart pounding in his ears at the thought of this not ending with her in his arms. "I love you, Mackenzie, I always have, and I want to be with you. If I haven't totally blown it, I want to be with you, I really do. I never want to be without you again, I just... I love you."

"Did you miss what I just said?" Her smile moves from tentative to blinding so quickly he almost misses how she shifts her chair just slightly until her shoulder touches his and he starts to think that maybe he hasn't blown his chances, that maybe..."I _said_ that for the last ten months I think I've made it pretty clear I'm still in love with you, and that definitely hasn't changed in the last ten minutes, so..."

He slides a hand into her hair, his fingers gently cupping her head, his eyes fixed on hers, and her apartment suddenly feels completely silent other than the sound of his heart still pounding like he's running a marathon, and the soft sound of her breathing as she leans in closer. She's been in love with him all this time, just as he has with her, yet he was too stubborn, too mired in hurt to even try to open himself up to the possibility it could be as simple as this. What happened can't be changed; yes, she made a mistake and she hurt him, ripped a hole in what they had together, but then she threw herself head first into danger, and when he realises again how close he came to losing her for good on a street in the Middle East, he shudders. His thumb strokes her cheekbone again, reminding him she's here, she's right here in front of him, alive and as beautiful as she's always been.

"If you're being chivalrous and waiting for me to say you can kiss me..." She moves closer, her lips almost on his, her smile soft and playful. "I'm saying it. Kiss me, Billy."

His mouth covers hers and his fingers tighten in her hair as she moves her hand to the back of his neck, pulling his even closer to her, sighing with satisfaction when he gently nudges her lips apart with his tongue, needing to fully savour the taste of her. She tastes like coffee and a tiny bit of toothpaste, but mostly she tastes exactly like he remembers, warm and sweet, her lips soft under his. When she pulls back he's confused but before he has time to question it she's in his lap, straddling him slightly awkwardly, her hips pushed against him and her kitchen chair more than standing up to the challenge. His hands move to her lower back and slide slowly under her shirt, pulling it free from where it was tucked neatly into her skirt, the skirt now pushed halfway up her thighs as she presses herself against him. Fuck, he's missed kissing her, he's really missed kissing her, so much so that when she pulls her lips from his he lets out an involuntary groan of disappointment, of loss.

"We really have to..." She stops, kisses him again and pulls away, her fingers scratching lightly down the back of his neck (shit, he's missed that too). "We can't do this now, we really need to go to work."

"Yeah, I guess," he says, his breathing heavy, his hands unable to stop exploring the soft skin of her back. "Or we could just...not go."

"And have everyone think we're in hiding because of TMI and their shitty story?" She quirks an eyebrow and the pink of her cheeks mesmerises him just like it always did. "I don't think so."

"But we wouldn't be hiding because of that..." He can't resist leaning in and running his lips down the side of her neck, the moan she gives letting him know it's appreciated. "We'd be hiding so we could do...other things."

"Oh?" She smiles, tilting her head as she looks into his eyes. "What might those things be?"

"Let me come home with you tonight and I'll show you exactly what they are," he says, knowing she's right, that they do need to go to work, but wanting nothing more than to slowly undress her and kiss every inch of her body.

"Deal." She smiles a little wider and her lips move to his again, kissing him quickly, softly, before she climbs out of his lap and takes hold of his hand, squeezing his fingers. "TMI are going be all over _this_ , you know that, don't you?"

"Yep." He nods, smiling at her, no longer giving a damn what they write because suddenly it doesn't matter. "Do you care?"

"I guess it's part and parcel of my...boyfriend being a rather handsome and famous news anchor," she says, sliding her fingers from his so she can straighten her skirt and tidy her shirt. "So yes, I do care, but I'll deal with it."

"I'll make it worth your while," he says, standing up, realising he's smiled more in the last few minutes than in the last few years.

"Glad to hear it." She steps forward and slides her arms around him, resting her head against his chest as he wraps himself around her, her voice slightly muffled when she speaks again. "For the record, this is the strangest morning I've had in a really long time. Good strange, but strange nonetheless."

"Fair enough." He grins and she pulls back, returning the grin as she looks up at him.

"I need to go and fix my make-up," she says, biting her lip slightly. "It wouldn't exactly be professional of me to go to work looking like I've just been perfectly kissed to within an inch of my life, would it?"

"Excuse me while I sit here and bask in that compliment," he says with a smirk, watching as she turns away, her skirt and shirt so neat again that if it weren't for her flushed cheeks and the taste of her on his lips he'd swear he just hallucinated the last few minutes.

*

He drinks another coffee while she goes to retouch her make-up, and he’s aware he’s sitting at her kitchen table grinning like a fool, glancing around her kitchen, already thinking about living with her, waking up next to her every morning. When she comes back out of her bedroom, appearing down the hallway in shiny black heels, he can’t quite resist pushing her back against the wall and kissing her until they’re both breathless. The smirk on her face goes no way to convince him her irritation at having to reapply her lipstick _again_ before they leave is genuine.

In the back of a cab he rests his hand on her knee, because now he can touch her again he doesn’t want to stop. She scrolls through her phone, skim reading what he assumes are emails, frowning at what he can only guess is a reread of the fucking TMI website. He sighs and she looks up from her phone, giving him a half smile, squeezing his hand briefly in reassurance, but still, his fury about the story simmers.

"You know Charlie's probably already put the squeeze on Nina Howard and her little band of fiction writers, just like he did with the Dayside fiasco," he says, watching as she nods but says nothing. "What is it your dad always says? Something about today’s news being tomorrow’s dinner?"

"Not quite." Her smile is genuine this time as she shakes her head, but it quickly fades as she goes on. "Today’s news is tomorrow’s fish and chip paper. Which makes no sense to most people in America, of course, but yeah, he’s right, I know he’s right. I think I’m just…I don’t like the thought of people thinking you have a producer who’s anything less than a hundred percent professional, that I’m some flighty idiot who-"

"Mackenzie...can we not go over this again?" He leans in and gently nudges her shoulder, tangling his fingers in hers and dropping a kiss to the top of her head when she refuses to look up at him. "Anyone who’s ever worked with you knows you’re the benchmark for professionalism, and anyone who _hasn’t_ worked with you wishes they had…which reminds me, we should look at your contract, make sure there’s no loophole that means you can skip back to Fallujah at the end of a bad week."

"Believe me, there will never be a week bad enough to make Fallujah seem appealing," she says, and this time she does look at him as a hint of a smile appears across her lips. "And anyway, I kind of have to stay. Now that TMI has basically sold me down the river as a totally incompetent maniac, it’s not like anyone else would hire me."

"Not sure that was the reason I was hoping you’d give, but hell, staying is staying." He shrugs as he smiles back at her.

"Says the guy who threw away a fortune to be able to fire me on any given Friday." Her phone buzzes and she glances down, smiling faintly before looking back up at him. "Charlie. He wants to see me when I get to the office, and he says I should call you and tell you to get in there too, and I quote, 'whenever he rolls in, hopefully before the first rundown meeting'. Should I tell him we’re on our way in? That you’re with me, I mean?"

"Yeah, why not, he may as well get used to it, right?" he says, feeling a strange current of uncertainty run through him, a worry that maybe he's rushing her.

"Absolutely." She turns her attention to her phone, sends the message and slides it back into her bag. Looking up, as the cab comes to a stop outside the ACN building, she smiles at him. "And Jim's eyebrows are essentially going to climb off the top of his head. When he called earlier and realised you were at my place, I swear I could hear his brain trying to explode."

"He's going to call in your old marine buddies to break my legs if I ever hurt you, isn't he?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, leaning forward to pay the driver.

"Without a shadow of a doubt, yeah." She frowns, bites her lip and picks her bag up from the seat beside her. "Why, are you _planning_ on hurting me?"

"I am never, _ever_..." He pauses, puts a hand on her arm as she moves to open the car door. "Going to hurt you again."

"Then you have nothing to worry about." She gives him her sweetest, most dazzling smile and he feels something in his chest he doesn't instantly recognise, something he thinks could be happiness. "Apart from TMI and their damn story. You do still have that to worry about."

"We've already lost a night of sleep worrying about it, and we didn't even have the advantage of being in the same bed while we did." He climbs out of the car and holds the door for her, taking her hand and pulling her closer to him. "Why don't we let Charlie worry about it for us?"

"I'm not sure that seems entirely fair," she says, tugging on his hand as she starts to head for the office. "It's hardly his fault, I mean-"

"You worry about Jim, I worry about you, Charlie worries about all of us." He stops her with a shrug, squeezing her hand and smiling when she slides her fingers tighter into his. "Those are just the rules, honey."

"Alright, well..." She glances quickly around before she leans up and kisses him. "Let's just get upstairs and see how bad this thing looks from the inside. If Leona's waiting in the lobby though, I can't promise I won't turn right around and run all the way back home."

"Like I told you last night, if I have to go head to head with Leona for you, I'll do it," he says, watching as she tries to smile, not completely convincingly. "Or I'll at least hold the door and let you get out first before we start running."

"There he is, my hero." She lets out a giggle and starts walking again, her hand still tightly grasping his.

"Always." He squeezes her hand, takes a breath, and pushes open the door.


End file.
